


The Book of Cas

by Two_of_Clubs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel is Not Innocent (Supernatural), Diary/Journal, Dirty Thoughts, Enochian-Speaking Castiel (Supernatural), First Kiss, First Time, Humor, Lack of Communication, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 02:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_of_Clubs/pseuds/Two_of_Clubs
Summary: “Oh my God,” Sam mutters.“What is it?” Dean asks, staring wide-eyed at him. “Is it like...a lost book of the Bible?“Worse,” Sam replies quietly.“Worse? What—what do you mean, worse?”“It’s Cas’s diary...”When Dean goes to retrieve some books from Cas's room, he finds one he's never seen before. Upon learning what his newest discovery is, Dean knows that he should put it back, but curiosity gets the better of him. After all, Cas is an angel of the Lord. What could he possibly have to write about in a diary?The answer to that particular question ends up being way more than Dean originally bargained for...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 61
Kudos: 148





	1. Let Sleeping Angels Lie

**Author's Note:**

> So, as a general note, I wrote this so that it takes place any time after Season 9 when Cas spends a little time as a human. Other than that, feel free to fit this in wherever you'd like. Use your imagination, time is just a construct!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

When seven o’clock rolls around, Sam and Dean officially start their day. Sam’s already had breakfast and Dean is on his third cup of coffee. They chat for a while in the kitchen and Dean fries some bacon. _So, the usual._ At eight o’clock, the two of them migrate to the library. They have a potential case in North Dakota and Sam wants to make sure he has all the bases covered before they head out there. Dean’s pretty sure it’s gonna be another salt-and-burn type deal, _but..._ the sightings _are_ on reservation soil, so it’s best if they double check some Native American folklore for the region first. By nine o’clock Sam starts to wonder where Cas is, and Dean, though he won’t say so, is beginning to wonder the same. The angel is always up by about eight-thirty, so sleeping in until nine is a bit unusual. Frankly, Cas doesn’t _need_ the sleep at all, but during his time spent as a human, he decided he liked sleeping, and has since made it a regular part of his routine. 

By ten o’clock, there’s still no sign of Cas and apparently, some of the books in the library are missing. _Of course,_ they just so happen to be the ones Sam needs. Dean _may have_ mentioned the case to Cas over dinner the previous night and Cas _may have_ taken it upon himself to do some of the research for them. It was a very nice gesture, one that Dean can greatly appreciate, since it means less reading for him. But now, go figure, Sam _"Th_ _e Jolly Green Nerd"_ Winchester wants his books back. _And who does he send to go retrieve them? Dean. Obviously._ After getting into a long argument about who has a lighter tread and who Cas seems to like better—and is therefore less likely to _smite_ upon being woken up by—Dean finds himself walking down the hall towards Cas’s room. The door is shut, and everything on the other side of it is silent. Dean knocks softly.

“Hey, Cas, you awake in there?” he calls.

When there’s no reply, Dean grabs the doorknob and gently opens the door, poking his head inside. Cas is, in fact, _not_ awake in there. The lights are on—both the lamp by his bedside, and the small one on his desk—but somehow the angel is still asleep. _At his desk, of all places._ For a moment, Dean pauses. _It all looks so human._ Cas is slumped over in his chair, arms folded on top of his desk with his head buried against the crook of his left elbow. There’s paper, pens, a couple journals, and several books scattered on the desk’s cramped surface. One of the books teeters precariously on the edge of Cas’s desk, next to his arm. Dean smiles to himself. _Cas looks so peaceful when he sleeps._

It’s good to have Cas back in proper form, angel mojo and all that jazz. Dean would _never_ imply that he doesn’t like Cas exactly the way he is, but...it’s kinda nice to see that some aspects of Cas’s time spent as a human have carried over. He still drinks coffee on occasion, and when he feels like it, he enjoys catching a few z’s. Dean carefully steps into the room, making sure not to startle the sleeping angel. Forget the saying about letting “sleeping dogs,” lie. Personal experience has taught him that the rare, sleeping _angels_ are much more dangerous. Dean shuffles his feet a little as he walks towards Cas’s desk, then clears his throat, being sure to make enough noise to gradually alert Cas of his presence. Cas stirs lightly at the sound, then groans. 

“Hey, buddy,” Dean says softly. 

Cas snaps his head up, a piece of paper comically stuck to his forehead. He stares wide-eyed at Dean. 

“It’s okay, it’s me,” Dean assures him, reaching out to place a hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“Dean?” the angel rasps. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

With his other hand, Dean removes the paper from Cas’s face, setting it down on the desk. Without thinking, Dean gently strokes his thumb over the lines the paper left on Cas’s forehead, smiling to himself. He feels Cas staring up at him and quickly stops.

“Sam and I were just wondering about you, you don’t normally sleep in this late. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Cas nods his understanding.

“I stayed up doing some research last night,” the angel mumbles. “I got bored and I guess I fell asleep...”

He yawns, then frowns.

“Actually...I think I might like to sleep some more.”

“Okay,” Dean says soothingly. “You can get some more rest.”

He glances over at the desk.

“But, uh...Sam kinda wants his books back though. If you don’t mind.”

Cas stares up at him groggily. 

“Oh, right,” he murmurs after a while. “You can take whichever ones you need.”

He yawns again. Dean feels a little flutter in his chest. _He really likes seeing Cas like this. All sleepy and unguarded._ Before he can stop himself, Dean slides a arm around Cas’s shoulders. 

“Why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll sort through the books, okay?”

Cas nods his agreement and gets to his feet. Half-asleep, he clumsily walks over to his bed, then has a seat on the edge. Since he’s already wearing comfortable clothes—a t-shirt, some sweatpants, and sneakers—Cas doesn’t need to get into anything more comfortable before getting into bed. He simply toes out of his shoes and socks, then slides under the covers, pulling them up to his chin.

“That’s better,” Cas slurs. “The desk wasn’t comfortable.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Dean replies. “Well, you get some shut-eye. I’ll grab the books, and then I’ll go.”

“Alright, Dean.”

The angel smiles sleepily at him before settling in and closing his eyes. Dean forces himself to pay attention to the task at hand, scanning the books on Cas’s desk. Unfortunately, Dean finds himself getting distracted rather easily. The first time it happens, it’s because Cas rolls onto his side, now facing Dean. The movement pulls Dean’s attention away from the stack of manila files he’s been collecting, and he glances over his shoulder at the angel. Cas’s expression is calm, and his features are almost childlike in sleep. The sight tugs at Dean, and for a brief moment, he contemplates the idea of reaching out and touching Cas. _Not in a weird way, obviously. Just...something small._ Something like a quick ruffle of Cas’s hair, or a soft pat on his shoulder. Dean shakes himself out of his thoughts. _Sleeping angels,_ he reminds himself. _Best to just let sleeping angels lie._ Dean turns his attention to the books on Cas’s desk.

He identifies a few of them as ones Sam had been looking for earlier that morning, and Dean stacks them together on the edge of the desk. Just as he’s about to pick them up, Cas mumbles something in his sleep. Dean slowly looks over his shoulder again. He watches, transfixed, as Cas mumbles a second time. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, but it sounds like it’s in Enochian. The angel’s lips twitch slightly as he murmurs, and once more Dean is plagued by distracting thoughts. This time, he thinks about something other than gently patting Cas’s shoulder or running a hand through his hair. As he stares just a little too long at Cas’s lips, Dean thinks about _kissing_ them. _Just once. Just a quick little peck._ But he quickly realizes that Cas might get angry if he catches Dean doing that. _Or maybe...just maybe, Cas might kiss him back. Damn, that would be nice...To finally know the taste of Cas’s pink, pillowy—_

  
Dean snaps his head back towards the desk. _No,_ he scolds himself. _Now is really not the time._ Cas mumbles something again and Dean _melts._ Before he can stop himself, he lets out a low, agonized groan. He freezes, glancing quickly at the angel to see if he disturbed him. Thankfully, Cas is still sound asleep, nestled comfortably in his bed. Dean buries his face in his hands. _Dear God, he’s in deep..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I should have the next chapter up in a couple of days, so stay tuned!


	2. The Journal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I ran into a little extra spare time and got this part ready to go earlier than I thought! Yay, productivity? 
> 
> Anyway, here you go, I hope you like it!

Dean stares at Cas’s desk, trying to look for something there to distract himself. Those efforts come to a screeching halt when Cas shifts again, curling up slightly. He watches as the angel slowly slides off his pillow, making himself comfortable underneath the covers. For a moment, Dean allows himself to fantasize about crawling under the sheets beside Cas, and cozying up to him. He imagines what it might be like to wind an arm around him and bury his face in Cas’s hair. When they’re in the bunker, Cas doesn’t bother with his hair, which leaves him walking around with an almost perpetual bedhead. _Although, Dean could probably make it look a little more wild, given the opportunity..._ Dean runs a hand over his face. He knows he has it _bad_ for Cas. The truth is, he’s known for a while now. 

He may have spent the first few years he’d known the angel denying it, burying the strange, confusing sensations that seemed to bubble up in his chest—and admittedly, in _other_ parts of his body—as deep as he could manage. These last few years though? Dean’s had _no_ problem admitting he has the hots for Cas _big time._ Well...he doesn’t have a problem admitting it to _himself,_ anyway. Admitting it to anyone else? _That’s_ a very different story. Admitting it to Cas? _Never._ Dean doesn’t think he could ever do that. Cas is many things—angel of the Lord, owner of that _ridiculous_ trench coat, proprietor of the most _gorgeous_ baby blue eyes Dean has ever seen, and star of almost every wet dream Dean has had for the better part of a decade, just to name a few. But somehow, _attainable_ doesn’t seem like one of them. 

Dean’s convinced himself that he’s better off just admiring the angel from afar, even though no amount of one night stands seem to do anything to quell his longing for Cas. Dean got over the whole _“liking dudes”_ thing with surprising ease. Admittedly, he hemmed and hawed about it for a couple of years, but when Dean finally caved and gave it a shot, all his indecision flew out the window. The first couple times were rushed and awkward, but Dean figured it out. He put things together on his own as a teenager when it came to girls, and he did the same thing as an adult when it came to guys. As his experience grew, Dean pieced together two things. 

First off, he’s apparently a quick learner. He wasn’t _completely_ ignorant to the topic of having sex with a man, even before his first time trying it. But then, there’s a _bit_ of a difference between reading an article about blow job tips on the private browser tab of a laptop, and _actually_ giving one. Even so, Dean honed his skills and learned how to _really_ show a guy a good time— _if he does say so himself_ —surprisingly quickly. Secondly, Dean realized he apparently has a type. With women, he pretty much runs the gamut. Blonde, redhead, brunette, tall, short, curvy, skinny, blue eyes, brown eyes, glasses, fair-skinned, dark-skinned, and anything in between—it really doesn’t matter to him. Beautiful is beautiful, and sexy is sexy. But with guys, it’s _different._ It only takes Dean a few weekend flings to figure out that he has a very... _specific_ taste when it comes to men: tall, blue-eyed brunettes. _Especially if they have a little stubble...just like Cas._

Dean doesn’t fail to notice the obvious correlation— _even if it drives him a little crazy._ He figures it’s as close as he’ll ever get to the real thing, especially after seeing Cas’s reaction to Dean admitting he has a thing for guys, not just girls. Sam had been almost _obnoxiously_ accepting, offering to get him a bisexual pride mug to keep at the bunker, or even a flag for his room. Both ideas made Dean incredibly uncomfortable, and he decided that silent acceptance was really all he wanted from his brother. Cas, however, had a very _different_ reaction. After wordlessly staring at Dean for the better part of five minutes with a strange look on his face, the angel had cleared his throat, assured Dean that sexual orientation had nothing to do with going to Heaven, and awkwardly patted his shoulder, before excusing himself from the room. 

For the better part of two weeks after that, Dean would occasionally catch Cas staring at him with that same, strange expression. The angel never said anything though, and eventually things went back to normal. He was never mean to Dean, and he didn’t treat him any differently, even if he did seem to fidget a bit more in Dean’s presence at first. Dean wrote it off as being part of an _“adjustment period.”_ Where Sam went out of his way to show his support by trying to be excited for Dean, and frequently reminding him that he would always be loved and admired, Cas just seemed to quietly come to terms with the information. Slowly, the awkwardness faded and they resumed being the best of friends. _Still...too bad they couldn’t be a little more than that..._

Dean is pulled out of his thoughts when Cas mumbles something else, then starts to snore gently in his sleep. He sighs quietly. _He seriously needs something else to focus on._ Dean finds it in the shape of a book he doesn’t recognize. He flips it open, examining it. It doesn’t look particularly old, unlike virtually all the other books in the bunker, but it’s clearly some kind of journal. All of the text is handwritten, largely in pen, and in... _Enochian?_ They have a few texts that are written in Enochian, and Cas occasionally works on translating them. Dean starts looking for loose papers on the desk, hoping to find a copy of Cas’s translation, but he doesn’t find anything. Dean suddenly realizes he has no idea what Cas’s handwriting looks like, not in Enochian anyway. And he’s only seen Cas write a few things in English. He flips through the book, looking at the strange symbols carefully. A few of them look familiar, but he doesn’t know what they mean. 

It doesn’t seem divided up into any discernible chapters, so Dean’s not sure what kind of a book this is. _Sam might know._ He’s been getting more fluent in Enochian, and while he’s still very bad at speaking it—laughably so in Cas’s opinion—Sam has gotten quite skilled at translating the holy language in written form. _(No really, Sam once tried talking to Cas in Enochian and the angel actually laughed at him and said Sam’s accent was the worst thing he’d ever heard!)_ Having found something other than the thought of climbing into bed with Cas and ruining their friendship to occupy himself, Dean tucks the strange book under his arm, and collects the research materials Sam needs. He then tiptoes out of the angel’s room, gently closing the door behind him. He makes his way to the library where Sam is fully engrossed in an old manila file. 

“Hey, I need your help,” Dean says.

Sam looks up at him. 

“Is everything okay with Cas?” his brother asks.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Still sleeping.”

Sam glances at the books in Dean’s arms.

“I see you got the books I needed.”

Dean sets them down on the table.

“Yeah, and actually,” he says, holding out the unidentified journal, “I found another book, something I haven’t seen lying around in here. You seen it before?”

Sam takes it, looking at it carefully. He turns the simple leather-bound book over in his hands. He quickly opens it, glancing inside. 

“No, this doesn’t look familiar...it’s in Enochian.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Sam furrows his brow.

“And...this was in Cas’s room?” he asks.

“Yeah, it was just sitting along with all the files on his desk.”

The younger Winchester hums as he starts flipping through the pages. 

“I kinda asked him to dig up some info on old, Native American lore,” Dean tells his brother. “You think this is like...I don’t know, a monster guide for angels?”

“No,” Sam replies slowly, a strange look on his face. “Actually, I’m not sure _what_ this is. I don’t know how to read it.”

Sam frowns.

“What is it?” Dean asks.

Sam motions for Dean to come stand next to him. Dean does, and Sam points casually at the pages.

“You see the structure?” he prompts Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean replies.

“It’s _totally_ off for Enochian. All the other texts we have are written in a _very_ specific format. But these,” Sam gestures at the rows of symbols on the page, “are written in straight lines. Which, I have to say, is very _rare_ for an Enochian text.”

Dean nods his understanding.

“So...what does that mean?”

“Well, for one thing, it means I finally know how I’m supposed to read this...And two...it’s very, _very_ important to whoever wrote it.”

Sam quickly turns back to the first page of the book and starts reading, his lips mouthing some of the words. 

“So, when you say _important..._ what do you mean?” Dean inquires.

Sam looks up from the book, blinking at Dean a couple of times.

“Angels are very... _picky_ about their writing,” he explains. “The only time they use plain, linear formatting is when they’re writing something of the _utmost_ importance. Most of the time, it’s almost like translating hieroglyphics, it’s done in _chunks.”_

Sam resumes reading as Dean digests this information. Suddenly, Sam breaks the silence, his voice tense.

“Oh my God,” Sam mutters.

“What is it?” Dean asks, staring wide-eyed at him. “Is it like...a lost book of the Bible?”

All the color drains from Sam’s face.

“Worse,” Sam replies quietly.

“Worse? What—what do you mean, _worse?”_

He looks up at Dean, his expression serious.

“It’s Cas’s _diary,”_ Sam says, his voice barely above a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> If you did, stick around! The fun is just getting started...


	3. A Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a teensy bit longer than the previous two, but I think it's worth it...
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Dean actually bursts out laughing. Sam stares at him.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean says, running a hand over his face. “It sounded like you said, that _that_ was—”

“It’s Cas’s diary,” Sam hisses. “As in, his _personal journal.”_

The smile disappears from Dean’s face.

“What?”

“You need to go put it back,” Sam says, holding the book out to Dean. “We shouldn’t have this.”

Dean blinks at his younger brother.

_“What?”_

Sam glares at him, shoving the book in his hands.

“Dean, I’m _serious._ You need to put it back where you found it.” 

“Okay, okay,” Dean grumbles. “I’m just... _processing.”_

Sam furrows his brow.

“What is there to process, Dean? It’s a journal. It’s not yours. _Put it back.”_

“Yeah but…” Dean pauses for a moment. “Aren’t you a _little_ curious about what’s in it?”

The look on Sam’s face suggests that he most certainly is not.

“No, Dean. That kind of thing is private. It’s called a _personal_ journal for a reason. How would you feel if Cas tried to read yours?”

“I don’t have one,” Dean says plainly.

Sam frowns.

“Look, my point is, it’s not any of our business what’s in there. If Cas decides to share things with you on his own, then that’s his choice. But if not, you need to be respectful of his privacy.”

Dean sighs. _He wasn’t expecting this to turn into a lecture._

“Yeah but, Sam...he’s an _angel. Of the freaking Lord!_ What could he _possibly_ have to write about? I mean, you said it yourself that whatever’s in here has to be _really_ important to him.”

“It is, Dean,” Sam replies. “It’s obviously _very_ important to Cas. Which is _exactly_ why I’m not going to read it. Now go put it back.”

Dean Winchester is many things. And while he may make poor decisions on occasion, that does not make him _stupid._ He’s actually very clever, arguably _too clever_ for his own good. The thing is, his intelligence _just so happens_ to hide behind his general inclination for mischief. Before Sam can so much as glare at him again, Dean has already formulated a plan that will allow him to read Cas’s journal in complete and utter secrecy. 

“Fine,” he tells Sam. “I’m gonna give Cas his _precious_ journal back, and then, I’m gonna be in my room. Because _you_ —”

Dean points a finger in Sam’s face for emphasis.

“—are not being very _fun_ today.”

Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes, then turns his attention to all the books Dean brought him. As far as Sam’s concerned, Dean does exactly what he says he’s going to do. What Dean _actually_ does is quite different. He sneaks over to Cas’s room, cracks the door open, pauses, then closes it once more. _Just in case Sam can hear him._ He then quickly goes to his room, stashing Cas’s journal away for safe keeping. Dean knows that Sam has to go shopping later to stock up on a few things before they head out for North Dakota tomorrow. So, he’ll just wait for his brother to go run errands before he grabs what he’ll need to translate Cas’s journal. He won’t hang onto the diary for _too_ long. _Surely Cas will notice it’s missing sooner rather than later._ So, Dean decides he’ll only keep it long enough to see if there’s anything interesting written inside. But until Sam leaves, he has to play it casual. 

Dean finds a book sitting on his nightstand and decides to occupy himself by flipping through it. He leaves his door open so that if Sam or Cas should come by to check on him, they won’t find him doing anything suspicious. _They’ll be none the wiser to his plan._ After about an hour or so of pretending to look busy, Cas ends up wandering over to Dean’s room to pay him a visit. Dean is stretched out on his bed, laying on his stomach, facing the door when Cas approaches. The angel is very clearly fresh from sleep, his hair tousled and clothes wrinkled from being under the covers. He knocks politely at the door frame. Dean looks up from his book and smiles. 

“Hey Cas, come on in,” he says. 

“What are you reading?” the angel inquires.

Dean shrugs.

“Just some book I found laying around.”

Cas walks _right up_ to the edge of the bed, looking at the book, and as it just so happens, Dean currently has his elbows propped up _right at_ the edge of the bed. Despite many conversations between the two of them in the past, the angel still has no concept of personal space. Dean really shouldn’t be surprised to see Cas’s hips only a few inches away from his face when he glances up from his book— _but he is._ Cas’s height and the height of Dean’s bed put him at about eye-level with Cas’s stomach when he’s laying like this. _Which also happens to be the perfect height for other things._ Like a bird’s eye view of the front of Cas’s sweatpants. Dean stares pointedly at his book. _This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening..._

“Let me see,” Cas says.

Before Dean can protest, Cas reaches down and pulls the book from Dean’s hands. Dean doesn’t put up a fight, he simply lets the book slide out of his fingers. Cas holds it up so he can read, the book hovering just over Dean’s head. Dean almost curses out loud. He can’t get up because he’ll knock into Cas’s hands and make everything more awkward than it already is. He can’t exactly scoot backwards because his toes are already jammed against the headboard, leaving him with only an inch or two of wiggle room if he goes for that route. He _could_ try rolling to the side, but that would require lowering his head at some point, which would put his face right next to Cas’s— _nope. Dean is stuck._ He tries to look anywhere but the front of the angel’s pants. He turns his head to the side, staring at the wall, but right when he thinks he can relax, Cas speaks.

“Why are you reading about Greek mythology?” the angel asks. “I thought you needed information on Native American folklore.”

Dean makes the unfortunate mistake of looking up at Cas. The way the angel’s hands hold the book right over his head, paired with his obvious proximity to Cas’s crotch, give Dean a _very_ good idea of what it might look like if he were to give Cas a blow job. He makes a small noise at that.

“What did you say?” Cas asks.

“Nothing,” Dean replies quickly.

He snaps his head back down, staring at the bed. 

“I, uh. I got kinda bored with the other stuff,” he lies. 

Cas shifts his weight in front of Dean, and the hunter has to bury his face in his hands. He peeks through his fingers at Cas, struggling to keep quiet. _This was just cruel._ Suddenly—if not perhaps _foolishly_ —Dean slowly peels his hands away from his face, tempting fate by letting his hands hover just to either side of Cas’s hips. Dean doesn’t touch him, but it’s a near thing. Cas glances down at him, but doesn’t say anything. Dean bites his lip. _Surely Cas must know what he’s doing. The angel’s not a complete idiot._ He _has_ to know that Dean is quite literally _inches_ away from attempting to give him a blow job on the end of his bed. _Maybe Dean will._ He considers the idea of grabbing Cas’s hips and pulling him flush against the foot of the bed. 

_He could do it if he wanted to. He could lift Cas’s shirt up and kiss the angel’s stomach to get things started._ Dean licks his lips, the fingertips on his left hand just grazing against the fabric of Cas’s sweatpants. Cas looks down at him and this time, Dean meets his gaze. A curious expression passes over Cas’s features, then the angel turns his attention back to the book. _Maybe while he left a messy trail of kisses on Cas’s stomach, Dean could slide a hand over and tease Cas through the fabric of his sweatpants, get him really worked up before tugging his pants and boxers down around his knees._ For a second, Dean thinks he might really do it. Before he can, however, Cas suddenly shoves the book in his face. 

“Here, I’ll let you finish reading,” Cas says. 

The angel quickly steps back from the bed, then turns to face the door.

“I’ll be going now,” he says, not even bothering to look back at Dean before exiting the hunter’s room.

Dean stares after him for a moment, then nearly throws the book on the ground in frustration. He huffs, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling dejectedly. Dean grumbles to himself and runs his hands over his face. _Being head over heels for your best friend really is its own kind of hell…_

  
  


***

  
  


Cas got out of Dean’s room just in time. _There’s no way he could have stayed in there a second longer._ Cas takes a deep breath, calming himself. He hadn’t meant to stand so close to Dean, and by the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. Cas would have never anticipated that Dean would be so... _comfortable_ with such proximity, and the entire interaction confuses him. He recalls their positions in the room, and the way Dean nearly placed his hands on Cas’s hips. Cas doesn’t think he can bring himself to consider what Dean might have done if he hadn’t left. _Although, it’s certainly not a bad thought._ Cas shakes his head. _No. Dean wouldn’t do that._ Dean isn’t interested in doing things like that. Or rather, he’s not interested in doing things like that with _Cas._

The angel is _painfully_ aware of Dean’s seemingly never-ending string of lovers. Most of them, Cas never has to meet personally, but the few and far between he catches glimpses of when he joins the brothers on a hunt _sting._ The women generally tend to irritate him the second he lays an eye on them, but the _men...Oh, that’s a whole separate issue._ Since Dean confessed to being sexually attracted to men— _something Cas had already known since pulling Dean out of Hell_ —Cas has been holding onto the hope that Dean is interested in him. He originally thought that maybe Dean was confessing this information as a way to lead into confessing his possible feelings for Cas. _But that never happened. And it probably never would._

Every man that Cas has seen Dean flirt with or stumble into a hotel room with is like a slap in the face, a reminder that he’s _this close_ to having Dean, but still _so far away._ Cas is very flexible on the whole _gender_ thing, but he understands that humans can be a bit more selective. What he _doesn’t_ understand is how his vessel is _precisely_ the type of man Dean seems to be interested in—judging by the usual subjects of Dean’s advances—and yet, Cas never gets to be on the receiving end of Dean’s attention. He fits the hunter’s profile _quite well_ if he’s not mistaken, but Dean never gives him so much as a second glance. Cas has come to realize that he’s stuck in what modern humans commonly refer to as the _“friend zone.”_ Cas is the one Dean calls when he needs help, or when things go south on a hunt, and Cas answers him every time, without fail. 

  
Now that they live together, Cas is the one Dean vents to, the one he begs and pleads and finally convinces to watch old Westerns with him, and the one Dean playfully pelts with popcorn while watching said old Westerns—but _never_ the one Dean wants to take to bed. He’s _never_ the one Dean flirts with, _never_ the one Dean pulls in for a kiss, and _never_ the one that Dean leads down the hallway to his bedroom, their fingers laced together. Cas has tried to make Dean understand, but nothing seems to work. He gives Dean virtually _all_ of his free time, he does whatever he can to make Dean happy, he even stares into Dean’s eyes on occasion, silently pleading with Dean to understand. _But nothing ever changes._ As much as Cas likes being Dean’s best friend, he wants _more._ He wants to be the one to hold Dean tight, and kiss Dean’s lips, and bring him pleasure. _But those are things Cas will never be able to have._ He sighs. _Dean is someone he will never be able to have..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> In case it isn't obvious, we have a very exciting chapter coming up next, so if you like what you've read so far, stick around!


	4. Lost in Translation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think the title pretty much covers what this chapter is going to be about...Enjoy!

When Sam leaves to run errands, Dean sets to work rounding up all of the texts he can find on Enochian. Some are books that have been in the bunker since its creation, others are handwritten documents that Sam has put together while working on teaching himself the holy language. Confident that he has everything he needs, Dean decides to head back to his room, carrying a large stack of books, notepads, and manila files. He closes the door behind him, and sets everything down on the floor in his room. He doesn’t have a desk, so he’ll be using the floor and his bed to lay out all of the materials he’ll be working with. Luckily, Cas didn’t spot him in the library, so the angel is none the wiser about what Dean is up to. Dean skims through some of Sam’s notes that have general information about translating Enochian into English, then retrieves Cas’s journal from its hiding place. 

The initial process is slow going, and Dean doesn’t have very much luck right off the bat. Enochian is a very literal language, which means a lot of common sayings in English don’t translate over very well. This difficulty is only made worse by the fact that Cas has been observing human behavior for centuries, and living with humans on a full-time basis for quite a while now. This means that Cas has a tendency to want to use idioms or phrases he’s picked up during his experience on Earth, even when he’s talking—or _writing,_ in this case—in his native tongue. When Dean finally gets a grip on this concept, Sam has since returned to the bunker, and scolded Dean through the door of his room for not helping Sam put away any of the purchases he made. _(They both use the same brands of soap and shampoo, which interestingly enough, doesn’t walk itself to the bathroom, Dean.)_ About an hour after receiving Sam’s _second_ lecture of the day, Dean _finally_ has some success.

The first several passages in Cas’s diary are exceptionally boring, but Dean’s not sure if that’s because Cas has nothing interesting to say, or if he’s just translating something wrong. As Dean discovers, the symbol for _‘bees,’_ looks oddly similar to the symbol for _‘water.’_ He’s able to use context clues to help with that one though. _Last time he checked, swarms of water do not make honey._ Cas talks about bees a lot. As in, _a lot._ It’s no secret that the honeybee is Cas’s favorite creature on Earth, a possible close second being the cat. _Cas knows a lot about cats._ Some of the facts he knows about them—and their apparently _barbed_ genitalia—are downright _disturbing._ And when Dean stumbles across the first interesting passage in Cas’s journal, he discovers _why._ As it turns out, Cas actually had a hand in the creation of cats. 

Apparently, the Christian notion that God created every single species of animal all by his lonesome, is _incorrect._ And while angels were intended to be soldiers of Heaven, some of them got to try out the process of creation. Being assigned to watch over the Earth, Cas was one of them. As Dean reads the translation, a particular comment that Cas once made about the female cat not being consulted over the nature of the male’s _barbed appendage_ makes a lot more sense. According to Cas’s journal, this is mainly due to the fact that _Cas himself_ didn’t think to consult them. _Dean’s not sure whether he should laugh or be mortified._ He has no clue why Cas would do such a thing, and frankly, the only reasons Dean can think of conjure up a series of thoughts he _really_ doesn’t like. He decides to distract himself by translating another passage, and quickly finds the second interesting thing in Cas’s journal. _And boy, if he thought the cat thing was a surprise..._

At some point, Cas’s focus drifts away from the animals of the Earth, to people. Or rather, to one person in particular. Dean grabs a fresh piece of paper to start translating this next bit, writing down his translations as he works. As he reads the translations, he thinks that Cas’s tone has shifted a bit. He’s not talking about honeybees with childish fascination, nor describing the anatomy of cats in a clinical fashion. He almost sounds... _romantic?_ No, that’s not quite it. _Smitten?_ Perhaps. Suddenly, Dean drops his pen, staring at the page in front of him. _He can’t believe what he’s reading._ He reads it over a second time. 

_‘His eyes, I think, are one of the most unique qualities about him. Green is a rarity, particularly among mortal creatures. I suppose it’s fitting that he has uncommon eyes, for he is an uncommon soul. Still, for eyes that are so special, they seem exceptionally weak. They regularly miss what is right in front of them, blind to the feelings and intents of those closest to him. Myself, in particular, I think. If his intellect were half as impressive as his beauty, then perhaps I would not go ignored. But then, an intellect of that level would be difficult to come by. Despite the wretched things he has seen and the horrors he has endured, every part of him remains beautiful, and not just his body...Although, he does have an exceptionally beautiful body for a human._

_No, the beauty I speak of is the beauty of his soul. A soul I touched once and have longed for since. Could I claim it as my own, if only in words? Would I have the right to think that such a soul could ever be mine? That he was mine? Do I dare to call him my own righteous man? My Dean—’_

Dean feels his mouth go dry. _In love. Cas’s tone is in love._ And that makes him in love... _with Dean._ Dean isn’t sure if he feels excited or nauseous. _Cas couldn’t be in love with him. He just couldn’t. Dean would have noticed something like that by now...wouldn’t he?_ To convince himself that this is just a fluke, Dean continues translating bits and pieces of Cas’s diary. Sure enough, Dean uncovers about a dozen more passages, all talking about _him._ Cas talks about how he wants to run his hands through Dean’s hair, or kiss his lips, or hold him tight, or share a bed so that he can wake up beside him every morning—all in the same affectionate tone as before. After a while, there’s no more denying it. _Cas is in love with him._ And if the entries in his journal are anything to go by, he’s been in love with Dean for quite a while. Dean’s about to give up translating when he finds something very... _different_ from the previous passages.

A little voice in the back of his head tells him that he should stop, that he should be content with this and not look into it any further, but you know what they say: _Curiosity killed the cat. (Which, quite frankly, takes on a whole new meaning now that Dean knows the truth about their origin...)_ At first, the passage doesn’t seem too different, but as he continues working, he stumbles across a very... _interesting_ sentence. And _that’s_ when Dean learns something else he didn’t know about Cas. As it turns out, Cas, the sweet, innocent, angel of the Lord who regularly sleeps in a shirt that says “Bee Happy” ever since Sam and Dean got it for him as a Christmas present, and occasionally indulges in PB&J sandwiches when he thinks no one is paying attention—yes, _that_ Cas—has a _shockingly_ filthy mind. To put it in perspective, if the parts about kissing Dean or cuddling up with him in bed were like photos of a nice, innocent bunny hopping across a field of flowers, this newest passage was like a high-res, zoomed in, dick pic. And _that_ was putting it gently. 

It takes Dean a while to figure that out though, because again, Enochian is _incredibly_ literal. Eventually, however, Dean finds the translations for the phrases that end up being: _‘seal our lips in a kiss,’ ‘mark him as my own,’_ and _‘draw pleasure from his mouth.’_ Dean’s still not entirely sure about that last one. Based on the context, he’d have to guess that either Cas wants a blow job—which ironically, Dean would have been _more than happy_ to give him earlier that morning—or he wants to make Dean moan in pleasure. Either potential meaning sounds _totally_ okay with Dean, but sadly, that doesn’t even _touch_ the worst of it. In addition to being very, _very_ literal, Enochian is also the holy language, which means that there are certain words that exist in English, and indeed in _other_ languages, that do not exist in Enochian. To convey the meaning of these non-existent words, Cas had to _describe_ what they meant. And _frankly,_ he got a little creative. 

Because he wasn’t able to say that he wanted to leave hickeys on Dean’s neck in Enochian, Cas wrote that he wanted to _‘leave behind wounds of passion,’_ on Dean’s skin. And _boy,_ if that doesn’t startle Dean the first time he reads it. That isn’t nearly as bad, however, as when he learns that there is no Enochian word for _‘fuck.’_ Instead, Cas took it upon himself to describe—in no shortage of detail—all the things he wanted to do to Dean’s body. Much to Dean’s blushing horror, the _spicier_ portions of that description include phrases like, _‘bury myself in the tender parts of him,’_ _‘make him quake with pleasure,’_ and _‘fill him with my—’ Nope. Dean’s done. He’s not translating another word._ Dean stares blankly at the wall for several minutes. When he recovers from shock, Dean realizes what an _idiot_ he’s been. _All this time, he could have had Cas. All this time, they both could have been happy._

Dean gets to his feet and starts putting everything away. He closes and stacks up the books, placing them in the corner. He sorts through Sam’s notes and places them on his nightstand, followed by his pages of translations. Dean stretches, and his stomach rumbles. He glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. _It was about time for him to start making dinner._ Dean tucks Cas’s journal back into its hiding spot and emerges from his room. He’s not sure what he’ll do just yet, but he needs to do _something_ about this thing between him and Cas. Dean needs to _show_ him, he needs to _make_ Cas understand. _Maybe he’ll do it after dinner. Maybe he’ll invite Cas back to his room and tell him everything. Maybe he’ll just grab him and pull him onto the bed and kiss him until there’s no room for confusion. Or maybe...he’ll chicken out._ Dean sighs. _No. He’s waited too long for this, and he refuses to wait any longer. One way or another, this ends tonight..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Not gonna lie, this was a ridiculously fun chapter to work on. I laughed, I cringed, and I really hope it was as amusing for you to read as it was for me to write.
> 
> I should have the next part up in another day or two, so until then! :)


	5. Kiss Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Dean makes his way to the kitchen to start cooking. He’s decided that they will be having meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, an American classic. When Sam stops by to get some water from the fridge, he insists Dean chop up a few vegetables to mix into the meatloaf. While Dean isn’t happy about it, he agrees, if only to get Sam out of his hair while he cooks. He’s in the middle of dicing an onion when Cas pokes his head into the kitchen. 

“Uh, Dean?” he says quietly.

Dean looks up at him and smiles.

“Hey, Cas,” he replies. “What’s up?”

Cas steps fully into the kitchen, wringing his hands nervously. Dean immediately takes notice and sets down the knife he’s using.

“What’s wrong?” he asks Cas.

The angel hesitates for a moment.

“I...I believe I may have misplaced a book,” Cas says.

_Uh oh._

“A book? What book?”

Cas sighs, walking over to Dean. 

“When I had you take back the books I pulled from the library, I had a personal book on my desk. I think I may have put it with all the research I was working on, because now I can’t find it.”

_Shit._ A pang of guilt rips through Dean’s chest. The feeling only gets worse when he can hear himself lying to Cas a moment later. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Cas. I, uh...I don’t think I know what book you're talking about. If I picked it up by mistake, it should still be with all the other stuff I grabbed this morning.”

Cas shakes his head, staring at Dean intently. 

“I already looked in the library, and…”

Cas trails off, frowning. Dean nearly confesses everything right then and there. _He wants to come clean and apologize. He wants to wrap his arms around Cas and kiss him over and over again to make up for all the lost time they could have had together._ Instead, Dean pats the angel’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Cas,” he says quietly. “What does your book look like?”

Cas hastily describes the book that Dean already knows to be the angel’s personal journal. He mentally kicks himself. _This needs to end. Right now. No chickening out._ Dean glances around nervously. _He doesn’t want to do this in the middle of the kitchen. Maybe he can get Cas somewhere more private._

“Actually, Cas,” Dean says. “Can I talk to you?”

The angel gives him a confused look.

“Of course, Dean. What is it?”

“Not here...Can we talk in your room?”

Cas furrows his brow, frowning.

“Alright,” he says slowly. 

Cas turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at Dean. They make it to the door of Cas’s room when Dean pauses.

“You wait here, I’ll be right back,” Dean tells him.

Cas nods his understanding. He’s clearly very puzzled, but he doesn’t say anything, he just walks into his room. It _hurts_ to see how much Cas trusts him, especially when there’s a good chance that Dean is about to hand him a big fat reason not to trust him ever again. Dean makes his way back to his own bedroom, buzzing with nervous energy. He silently retrieves Cas’s journal from its hiding spot, then heads to the angel’s room. Cas is sitting on the foot of his bed when Dean walks in. Dean gently shuts the door behind him. _Here goes..._

“Cas?”

Cas is staring at him. He glances at his journal in Dean’s hand.

“You...you found it?” Cas mutters, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shakes his head. Wordlessly he holds out the book to Cas, his hands trembling slightly. The angel takes it, then sets it on the bed beside him.

“Dean? What is it?” the angel asks, his tone concerned.

Dean sighs.

“Your book wasn’t missing Cas,” he says quietly. “I...I _took_ it.”

Cas gives him a strange look.

“But...it was just an accident, Dean. You must have picked it up with the research I was working on.”

Dean shakes his head. Cas narrows his eyes.

“It wasn’t... _entirely_ an accident, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head at Dean, his confusion only growing. 

“I don’t understand.”

Dean runs a hand over his face.

“You may have misplaced the book, Cas, but I took it,” Dean tells him. “And when I realized what it was...I _kept_ it.”

Cas suddenly lets out a nervous laugh. It’s a _very_ unusual sound coming from the angel, and it only makes Dean’s guilt grow. He stares down at his shoes.

“What do you mean, _when you realized what it was?”_ Cas inquiries, looking at Dean uneasily.

“It’s your _diary,_ Cas,” Dean murmurs.

Cas suddenly gets up from his bed, striding towards Dean, his expression angry. He fixes Dean with a glare. 

“And how do you know _that?”_ Cas demands. 

He glances over at his journal. 

“You can’t even read Enochian.”

“I know, but Sam—”

“Sam _helped_ you?”

“No,” Dean assures him. “Sam has no idea about what I did...but I used his notes to help with the translations.”

Cas recoils slightly, staring at Dean in disbelief. 

“You...you _translated…”_

Dean nods. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas, I…”

He sighs. _He can still save this._ Dean finally looks up at Cas and gingerly reaches a hand towards him, cupping his face. The angel gazes at him, wide-eyed. Dean inches a little closer.

“I know what you wrote, Cas,” he says intently. “I know what you wrote about me.”

Cas moves to step back, but Dean quickly wraps his other arm around Cas’s middle, pulling him close. Cas’s eyes are dark and stormy, only a sliver of blue left in them. Dean swears he can feel the air pressure in the room changing, like Cas is about to start a thunderstorm in the middle of the bunker. The angel should be downright _terrifying_ like this, but to Dean, he’s _gorgeous._ Dean’s heart skips a beat as Cas stares directly into his eyes. His whole body feels jittery with anxious excitement. He pulls them a little closer together, stroking Cas’s cheek with his thumb. Dean can feel himself breathing more rapidly, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He licks his lips. Cas’s eyes suddenly dart over Dean’s features, his expression softening _just_ a touch.

_“Dean?”_ he murmurs.

_“Kiss me,”_ Dean breathes.

He lets his eyelids flutter shut, his lips parting slightly. He has just enough time for a shallow breath, and then Cas’s lips are on his. He feels the angel’s hands grab at his hips, pulling him closer, and Dean moans shamelessly at the touch. He winds his arms around Cas’s neck, tilting his head further to the side to deepen their kiss. Cas moves his jaw deliberately, like he’s trying to draw out their kiss for as long as possible. _It’s the perfect first kiss: slow, passionate, and oh so promising._ Dean lets Cas gradually work his mouth open with the press and slide of his lips. He darts his tongue out, desperate for _more_ . The angel returns the gesture, and Dean swears he can taste a spark of electricity on Cas’s tongue. He tangles his hands in Cas’s hair. They quickly find a rhythm, moving in sync with each other as if they had done this hundreds of times before. It’s familiar, but also exciting, and it makes Dean feel just a _little_ weak at the knees _._

He relaxes his jaw open wider, silently offering Cas entrance to his mouth. Cas takes it, and Dean makes a _very_ pleased noise in response. Cas savors the sound, along with the taste of Dean’s tongue, and the feel of his lips, and the way Dean arches forward into him. He swirls his tongue along the inside of Dean’s mouth, taking in as much of him as possible. He strokes a hand along Dean’s spine, delighting in how the simple touch causes Dean to press their bodies even closer together. Cas isn’t sure how long they spend like that, exchanging kiss after kiss, but when they eventually have to pull away for air, it feels like it wasn’t _nearly_ long enough. Dean’s lips and cheeks are both a bright pink when they part, and the sight of him makes Cas _ache_ for more than just Dean’s kiss.

Cas wraps his arms firmly around Dean’s waist, pulling him in once more. He plants a long, slow kiss on Dean’s lips, then starts trailing wet kisses along his jaw. Cas nibbles lightly at Dean’s ear, forcing a moan from his lips. Because Cas isn’t there to muffle the sound with a kiss, the noise is much louder than any of Dean’s previous vocalizations, loud enough to fill Cas’s room. The sound spurs the angel on, and he starts kissing at Dean’s neck. Dean runs his fingers through Cas’s hair, tilting his head back to give Cas better access to his throat. Cas starts to suck at the skin there, pulling a string of shuddering gasps and low hums out of Dean. Dean feels a graze of teeth at the base of his neck, and his grip tightens in Cas’s hair. The angel nips at him experimentally and Dean cries out, bucking his hips into Cas’s. 

Cas gasps at the feeling. _It’s not enough. He wants more._ His hands trail away from Dean’s hips, sliding down to grab at either side of Dean’s ass, forcing their hips even more firmly together. Dean whines, and the noise sends Cas into _overdrive._ He sucks harshly at the base of Dean’s neck and starts to grind their hips together. Dean clutches at his shoulders, trying to steady himself. He suddenly grabs Cas’s face in both of his hands and pulls the angel’s head up so he can seal their lips together once more. Their kisses are sloppy and frantic, a far cry from how they were only a short while ago— _but neither of them care._ Cas’s fingertips suddenly dig into the sides of Dean’s ass, and the hunter makes a _particularly_ loud noise against his lips. Cas leans back, looking at him intently.

He stares at Dean, at his green eyes, now blown wide. _What is he doing? What is he thinking?_ Cas quickly lets go of him, taking a step back. For so long, he’s told himself that this is something he’s not allowed to have, that _Dean_ is someone he’s not allowed to have. And now that that notion has been completely stripped away, Cas doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He knows what he _wants_ to do. _He wants to rip Dean out of his clothes and kiss him all over. He wants to learn what other sounds he can draw from the hunter’s lips. He wants to lock Dean in his room and not let him out until they’ve had their fill of each other, until Dean is begging him to stop, his whole body shaking from pleasure._ But somehow, Cas just can’t bring himself to do it. He’s still too shocked, shocked at Dean and shocked at himself. 

“Cas?” Dean asks quietly. 

The angel gives him a guilty look. 

“I...I think you should leave, Dean,” he murmurs. 

Dean blinks at him.

_“What?”_

Cas looks away. He can’t bear the pain and confusion on Dean’s face. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, but...I need you to go.”

“But Cas—”

_“Please, Dean.”_

The hunter sighs, then nods his understanding. 

“Okay...Okay, Cas.”

He opens the door and walks out into the hall, pausing in the doorway. 

“I’m, uh...I’m gonna go finish dinner...It should be ready in about an hour and half if you wanna eat,” he says quietly.

Dean doesn’t bother to wait for a response, he simply turns and walks away, heading for the kitchen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Terrible cliffhanger, I'm sorry. But hey, at least it can only go up from here!
> 
> Regardless of how it ended, I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope you stick around. Thank you for reading!


	6. Kitchen Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sam has just finished chopping up the celery when Dean stumbles into the kitchen. He already took care of the onion Dean got halfway through, now he just needed to chop the mushrooms up. He glances in Dean’s direction.

“What, did the vegetables scare you off?” he teases.

Dean freezes, staring at him like he just realized that Sam was in the kitchen. Sam takes a good look at him. Dean’s a bit on the dishevelled side, his clothes slightly wrinkled and pulled at odd angles across his body. He _almost_ looks like he just woke up from a nap, except that his expression is too alert, his eyes wide and his cheeks a light pink. Sam furrows his brow, setting down the knife.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

“Sam,” Dean mutters.

He rubs at his neck nervously, then winces.

_“What the…”_ he murmurs.

Sam walks over to him. He puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, looking at him carefully.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

_“No,”_ Dean growls, smacking Sam’s hand away. 

He turns his head, and Sam quickly spots the source of Dean’s discomfort. There's a decently-sized, bright-red mark on the side of Dean’s neck. _Wow...Well, he knew today was gonna be interesting._

“Uh...Dean?”

“What?” Dean grumbles.

“You...you’ve got a little…”

Sam taps the side of his own neck for emphasis. Dean doesn’t seem to understand. He narrows his eyes at Sam.

“I’ve got _what?”_ he snaps.

Sam runs a hand over his face. _Did Dean really not know?_

“You have a _hickey,_ Dean,” he informs his older brother. “A _pretty_ good one, at that.”

Dean’s eyes go very wide. He pokes at his neck experimentally.

_“Oh my god,”_ he mutters.

Sam sighs. _It could always be worse._ Back when they lived permanently in hotel rooms, he’d walked in on _way_ worse than some wrinkled clothes and a fresh hickey. Wordlessly, Sam crosses over to the refrigerator. He opens the freezer and pulls out an ice pack. He offers it to Dean clinically, as if he were helping him with an injury from a fight. Dean accepts it, not quite meeting his eyes. He holds it against the side of his neck, wincing at the cold. Dean stares forlornly at the kitchen counter. Sam folds his arms over his chest, taking a deep breath.

“So,” he says, looking at Dean intently. “How’s Cas?”

Dean looks at him like Sam just smacked him. His cheeks turn a deep shade of pink and he hangs his head.

“He’s mad at me,” Dean murmurs.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” Sam tells him.

He’d had a bad feeling since he returned from running errands and found every single one of the bunker’s texts on Enochian—along with his personal collection of notes on the holy language— _missing._ It hadn’t taken him more than a couple minutes to piece together what Dean was up to, and as tempted as Sam had been to tear Dean a new one, he decided he would let Cas have the honors. _The angel’s not dumb. He would figure out what Dean was doing one way or another._ Dean stares up at him, a confused look on his face.

“You’re not?” he asks quietly.

Sam shakes his head.

“See, that’s what happens when you read someone’s diary, Dean. You _hurt_ them, and they get _mad,”_ Sam says, like he’s explaining the concept to a little kid.

Dean gawks at him.

“How...how did you—”

“Really, Dean?”

Sam gives him a knowing look.

“I kinda keep track of our library. You _really_ think I’m not going to notice when a bunch of books, all about Enochian, go missing on the same morning you discover that Cas has a journal?”

Dean visibly deflates at that.

“Not to mention, you took some of my notebooks, too,” Sam adds.

Dean buries his face in his free hand.

“ _God_...I feel like such an _asshole,”_ he groans.

“You _should,”_ Sam scolds.

He looks Dean over. Dean _really_ does look upset. It’s obvious he understands the weight of what he did, something Sam has to admit he’s a _little_ surprised about. He expected Dean to be a bit more indignant about the whole thing. _The hickey’s a surprise, too._ Well—okay, not _that_ much of a surprise. Sam’s had the misfortune of watching Dean and Cas dance around each other for _years._ The idea that things might get a little _heated_ between the two of them at some point was certainly not a foreign one. Sam just didn’t expect it would happen on _today_ of all days. He’d figured that Dean would end up with something more along the lines of a _black eye_ when Cas caught him, not a _hickey_. _This was a new one, even for them._

“So,” Sam nods at the ice pack on Dean’s neck, “what happened?”

“I...I figured out that Cas _likes_ me,” Dean offers.

Sam nearly responds with, _‘And it only took you this long?’_ but he manages to stop himself. He scratches his chin, recalling some of the words he’d accidentally glimpsed in Cas’s journal that morning.

“By reading his diary?”

Dean nods.

“Yeah well, maybe the next time you get a crush on someone, Dean, just try talking to them,” Sam says in a snarky tone.

“You...you _knew?”_ Dean asks, staring at Sam incredulously.

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Dean...a _blind man_ would have been able to see it. _Yes,_ I know about your thing for Cas. And _yes,_ I know about Cas’s thing for _you._ I’ve lived with both of you for too long to _not_ know.”

Dean turns his attention to the floor. 

“So, what else happened?” Sam asks.

“I...I may have…”

Dean gestures vaguely. Somehow, Sam interprets the meaning.

“You put the moves on him?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Dean’s shoulders slump forward.

_“Kinda.”_

Dean frowns.

“Cas told me to leave,” he adds. “He just _stopped..._ and he told me to go.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m pretty sure he _hates_ me,” he says after a moment.

Sam sighs. _God, his brother has the emotional intelligence of an iguana..._

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and guess that neither of you _talked_ about how you feel?” he asks.

“Well... _no.”_

“Dean...Cas doesn’t _hate_ you, okay? That’s not the issue here. The poor guy’s just _confused.”_

Dean looks up at his younger brother, a hint of hope in his expression.

“Confused?” he murmurs.

“Yes, Dean. From what I understand, you pretty much hurt his feelings, then tried to make up for it by making out with him.”

Dean gives his brother a guilty look.

“I mean, just look at his reaction,” Sam says. “Cas gave you a _hickey,_ then told you to _leave?_ That kinda screams _confused_ to me.”

The older Winchester contemplates this. 

“Oh,” he mutters. “I guess you’re right.”

_Tell me about it,_ Sam retorts mentally. 

“Look,” he tells Dean, “I think you just need to give Cas a little time to calm down, okay? And be _patient_ with him. It could be an _hour_ before he’s ready to talk to you, or it could be a _week._ However long it takes him is up to _him._ Whatever you do, Dean, don’t _corner_ him, let Cas come to you.”

Dean nods his understanding.

“And _when_ you talk to Cas,” Sam continues, “actually _talk_ to him. If you like him, _tell_ him that. If you want a relationship, make sure he understands. And most importantly, Dean, _apologize._ Even if you’ve said you’re sorry, say it again. It’ll go a long way.”

Dean silently digests this information. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No worries.”

Sam gives his brother a quick pat on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna give you some time to yourself, let you sort through things, okay?”

“Yeah...yeah, okay.”

“But let me know if you need anything,” Sam tells him.

Dean nods his understanding. With that, Sam heads out of the kitchen, leaving Dean alone.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean tosses the ice pack somewhere on the kitchen counter and sets to work. Despite a few careless mistakes, like forgetting to preheat the oven and almost missing the sink when he goes to strain the boiled potatoes, Dean manages to make dinner. _He’s pretty out of it...but he can still cook._ When dinner’s ready, Dean calls out into the main part of the bunker, informing Sam and Cas that it’s time to eat. Sam shows up a few moments later, but Cas is nowhere to be seen. Neither of them bother to address it, something Dean is immensely grateful for. The two brothers eat in silence, and when they finish, Dean informs Sam that he’ll take care of the dishes. _He could use the extra time to himself._ Sam doesn’t argue and thanks him for cooking, heading back to the library. 

Dean does the dishes in a haze. He takes his time about it, letting the repetitive motions of scrubbing, rinsing, and then drying the dishes soothe him. He thinks a lot about what Sam told him, and a lot about Cas. He thinks about all their interactions over the years, about how things might have been different if Dean had manned-up and told him how he felt a long time ago. He sighs, staring down at the sink. He only got a _taste_ of Cas earlier that evening, but every second had been _amazing._ Dean allows himself to think about it for a little while, what it was like having Cas so close, getting to hold him, and grab him, and kiss him. Eventually, Dean has to turn his thoughts elsewhere. _It makes him too sad._ He misses Cas, even though the angel is just a few rooms away. 

Needing to distract himself, Dean decides the kitchen needs a thorough clean. He starts putting dishes away, throws the thawed-out ice pack he’d been using earlier back in the freezer, and wipes down all the counters. He cleans out the microwave, and the toaster, and the oven, making sure each of the appliances look brand new by the time he’s done. He wipes down the kitchen table and all the chairs. He sweeps the floor and is considering mopping it when he hears footsteps approaching. Dean glances at the clock on the microwave. _Shit._ He’s been in here for _hours. Sam’s probably gonna give him yet another lecture and tell him to go to bed._ Bracing himself for his brother’s arrival, Dean turns and faces the kitchen doorway. He’s _shocked_ when he sees Cas step into the room instead.

“Hello, Dean,” the angel says quietly. 

“C-Cas?” Dean murmurs.

Cas approaches him slowly. He glances around the kitchen, noticing how tidy and spotless it is. He looks at Dean, frowning slightly. _Dean cleans when he’s upset._ It wasn’t a quirk he’d always had, but upon taking over the bunker, Dean slowly developed all kinds of new behaviors, this being one of them. Cas feels a small tug of guilt. He steps closer to Dean. Dean shifts back slightly, but doesn’t move away. Cas stops about a pace or so away from him, then does something that catches Dean completely off-guard. He reaches for Dean’s shoulders, and pulls him in for a hug. Dean’s breath catches as the angel draws him in closer, burying his face against the top of Dean’s shoulder. After recovering from shock, Dean slowly wraps his arms around Cas’s middle, leaning his head against Cas’s temple. They stay like that for a moment, then Cas pulls away, his hands coming up to cup Dean’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmurs.

Dean blinks at him.

“What? Why are _you_ sorry?” he asks. 

“I shouldn't have told you to leave, Dean. Not after I…”

Cas trails off, then sighs. Dean strokes a hand along Cas’s side. 

“No,” Dean says firmly. “Don’t apologize, Cas. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, okay? _I’m_ the one who needs to apologize.”

Cas leans their foreheads together.

“And I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean continues. “I’m so, _so_ sorry for what I did...It was wrong. I had _no_ right to do what I did, and I understand if you’re mad at me.”

Cas pulls back to look at him.

“Dean...I’m not mad,” he says gently.

“You’re...you’re _not?”_

“No.”

Cas strokes Dean’s cheek.

“I _was._ I was very angry at first,” he admits. “But now?”

He shakes his head. 

“Now I have more important things to worry about,” Cas says, looking at Dean intently. “Like _you.”_

Dean’s jaw drops. His eyes start to tear up as he stares at Cas in disbelief. The angel gives him a gentle smile. 

“But Cas, I—”

Cas hushes Dean, pulling him in for a tight embrace. He strokes the back of Dean’s head, soothing him.

“You think you’re the only one who’s made a mistake?” Cas asks him. “That you’re the only one who’s ever done something wrong in their life?”

Dean sniffs at that. Cas turns his head and presses a soft kiss to Dean’s cheek.

“I’ve made mistakes too, Dean...and I forgive you.”

Dean clutches at Cas, burying his face against the side of the angel’s neck. Cas holds him tight, soothing him with gentle words and light touches. He rubs Dean’s back and shoulders, letting Dean stay wrapped around him for as long as the hunter needs. When they slowly break apart, Dean looks up at Cas, his green eyes full of emotion.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“There’s...there’s something I want you to have,” Dean says quietly. “It’s in my room.”

Cas looks at him quizzically.

“It’s the translations I took from your journal,” Dean explains. “I shouldn’t hold onto them, they’re _yours.”_

Cas nods his understanding. 

“Okay, Dean,” he says. “We can go get them.”

Cas grabs one of Dean’s hands, gently lacing their fingers together. Dean slowly leads them out of the kitchen, heading towards his room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, as always, for reading!
> 
> I thought it would be nice to write a little bit of Sam's perspective for this chapter, kinda change things up a bit. The next chapter will be up here soon, so until then! :)


	7. All of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let the spicy chapters begin...Enjoy!

Dean gently closes the door behind them. He crosses over to his nightstand and picks up the stack of translations, handing them to Cas. Cas takes them, slowly leafing through the pages. He raises his eyebrows in a combination of surprise and amusement as he takes in just _how much_ of his journal Dean translated.

“Cas?” Dean murmurs.

The angel looks at him with interest.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I wanted to show you that I know how you feel,” Dean says, gesturing towards the papers in Cas’s hands. “I...I know what you want.”

Cas furrows his brow. He looks through the translations, stopping when he discovers a very _particular_ one. Dean watches him for a moment, noticing how the angel’s cheeks seem to take on a bit of color. It’s interesting to think that Cas might be embarrassed by his own words, but then, the angel had never planned on someone else reading them. Dean clears his throat.

“And...I want you to know that it’s _okay,_ Cas.”

Dean nods at the papers.

“All those things you want in there...I want them _too._ I wanna be with you, and kiss you, and wake up to you every morning.” 

Cas slowly looks up at Dean, his blue eyes shimmering in the dim light. Dean licks his lips nervously.

“I want _you,_ Cas,” he says. “In every sense of the word.”

The papers slip out of Cas’s hands, spilling onto the floor. Dean doesn’t have time to register that though, because the next thing he knows, Cas’s hands are on him, pulling him against the angel’s chest. Dean’s hands fly to Cas’s shoulders to steady himself. For a long moment, Cas just stares at him, his blue eyes piercing into Dean’s. His eyes suddenly dart down to Dean’s lips, then flick back up to meet Dean’s gaze, a silent question. Dean smiles at him. He closes his eyes and leans in, pressing a kiss to Cas’s lips. It’s slow and tender, more hesitant than their first kiss, but somehow equally as powerful. Dean melts into it, sighing as Cas kisses him back, matching Dean’s languid pace. Cas strokes a hand along Dean’s back and sides, and Dean trails his hands down the front of Cas’s chest.

Their kiss builds gradually, a total contrast to the last time they found themselves in this position. They move like they have all the time in the world, lips brushing together gently, tongues only _just_ darting out to sneak little tastes of each other. Cas’s grip on him is firm, but not _aggressive_ like it was earlier. Dean presses himself into Cas at each touch, but it’s more out of a desire to be close to the angel than out of desperation. Every time they have to pull away for air, they quickly find their way back to each other, wanting to stay in this gentle rhythm for as long as they can. At some point, things start to pick up, with Dean grabbing at Cas’s shirt and Cas kneading lightly at Dean’s hips. When they draw back to look at each other, Dean’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and Cas’s eyes are _huge,_ his pupils blown wide. The angel swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

“Dean...” he murmurs. “I want you to know...regardless of what you’ve read, I have _no_ expectations. Whatever you’re comfortable with—”

Dean silences him with a quick kiss.

“I want _everything,_ Cas,” he breathes. “I want everything you’ll give me.”

Cas plants a long, passionate kiss on Dean’s lips by way of response. When they break apart, Dean bites his lip in anticipation. He glances pointedly at his bed beside them, then back at Cas.

“You...You wanna...”

Cas nods eagerly. They ignore the scattered papers they’re stepping on as they move towards the bed. Dean quickly sits down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks. Cas, already barefoot, starts to run his hands over Dean’s arms and shoulders. When Dean manages to get his shoes and socks off, tossing them haphazardly onto the floor, Cas crowds between his thighs, nudging them apart with the press of his hips. Dean happily allows Cas to inch closer. _It feels great._ Cas grabs at the material of Dean’s flannel overshirt.

“May I?” he asks.

Dean nods, smiling. Cas slowly strips it off his shoulders, kissing him. When they pull away, Dean’s hands race to the bottom of Cas’s t-shirt. He looks up at the angel, silently asking permission, and Cas gives him an enthusiastic nod. Dean slides his fingers under Cas’s shirt, savoring the warmth of Cas’s bare skin. Cas helps him remove the shirt, pulling it off over his head as Dean slides it higher up on his torso. As soon as Cas’s shirt hits the floor, Dean’s arms wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. Dean presses several sloppy kisses to the skin on Cas’s stomach and ribs. Cas tips his head back and moans, his hands coming up to stroke Dean’s hair. Dean cranes his head down, leaving a trail of wet kisses on Cas’s lower stomach, just above the waistband of his sweatpants. He barely dips his fingers into the waist of Cas’s pants when the angel’s hands move to his shoulders. 

Dean glances up, checking to see that this is okay. Cas nods at him again and Dean slowly slides Cas’s sweatpants down off his hips. He leaves Cas’s boxers alone for now, his hands just brushing against the fabric of them as he tugs Cas’s sweatpants down to his knees. The angel takes a half-step back and steps out of them. He then crowds between Dean’s legs once more and grabs at the fabric of Dean’s t-shirt. Dean moans, signaling to Cas that he can undress him. He then removes his arms from Cas so that the angel can slide him out of his t-shirt. Cas tugs it off over his head, then drops it onto the floor. He grabs Dean’s shoulders firmly as he stares at his bare torso for a moment. His hands then slide down Dean’s chest and stomach. Dean shivers slightly and Cas bites his lip at the sight. When he looks Dean in the eyes again, Cas’s gaze is dark, like the sky when a thunderstorm is brewing. His jaw is set, his cheeks flushed a light pink. _He’s beautiful._

Without another word, Dean grabs one of Cas’s hands and uses it to draw Cas in as he slides himself fully on the bed, laying his head on one of the pillows. Cas moves with him, putting one knee on the bed, then leaning down and climbing over Dean. He slides his other knee between Dean’s legs, slowly laying his weight on top of him. They both make noises of pleasure as their bare chests and stomachs meet, Cas, a breathy type of moan, and Dean, a low hum. Dean pulls him in for another kiss, his fingers tracing invisible patterns into the skin on Cas’s back and shoulders as they settle into a rhythm once more. Cas suddenly hums softly, like he’s just remembered something. The angel glances back over his shoulder and nods in the direction of the door. There’s a gentle, but audible _click._ He turns his attention back to Dean. Dean is staring up at him.

“Did you just... _lock my door?”_ he asks.

Cas nods.

“But—”

“My grace,” Cas tells him, already knowing what Dean was going to ask.

He presses a kiss to Dean’s lips.

“You used your angel mojo to lock my door?”

Cas gives him a small smile. 

“Can’t have you running off, now can I?” he teases.

Dean grins up at him. Cas lowers himself back down so that his face is hovering no more than an inch from Dean’s. 

“I’m not going _anywhere,”_ Dean murmurs against the angel’s lips.

He makes a soft noise as Cas suddenly claims his lips in a kiss. Dean’s arms wind around his neck, and the angel keeps their lips sealed together until Dean almost can’t stand it any longer. Cas kisses him until he’s breathless, until Dean is pawing at his shoulders to tell him he needs a break, he needs to _breathe._ When Cas finally lets him pull away for air, Dean tilts his head back, gasping, exposing his neck in the process. Cas immediately takes advantage of the opportunity this presents him with. He trails several kisses along Dean’s jaw, then under his ear as he slides a hand up to tangle in Dean’s hair. He presses a kiss to the side of Dean’s neck, sighing reverently against his skin. Cas tilts his head up and his lips brush against Dean’s ear, causing Dean to shiver. 

_“Would you like to see something else I can do with my grace?”_ Cas whispers. 

He pulls back, looking at Dean. Dean stares at him, wide-eyed. He nods eagerly. Cas slides a hand under Dean’s jaw.

“If it’s too much, just tell me, alright?” Cas prompts him.

“Okay,” Dean breathes, buzzing with excitement at whatever it is Cas is going to do.

Cas slowly guides Dean’s head back, tilting his chin up so that his throat is bared. Then, Cas removes his hand. Dean pauses. _Nothing feels any different._ He furrows his brow. Dean glances at Cas, confused. He moves to tilt his head back down, but... _he can’t. He’s stuck._ His head is stuck in the exact position Cas adjusted it to. Before Dean can say anything, Cas presses his lips to Dean’s neck once more, this time sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there. Dean goes to move his head, but nothing happens. He suddenly understands. _Cas is keeping his head still so he can tease at Dean’s neck as much as he wants._ The realization alone draws a moan from Dean’s lips. His hands find their way to Cas’s shoulders as the angel continues his onslaught of kisses on Dean’s neck. 

It has to be one of the _strangest,_ yet most _arousing_ things Dean’s ever experienced. He can still move his jaw, and blink, and talk. He’s free to move his arms and legs as much as he wants—and he _does,_ grabbing at Cas and arching up into him. Dean can even angle his head from one side to the other as Cas trails rough kisses along either side of his neck. _He just can’t move his head down._ A wave of excitement washes through him. Dean’s tried a little bondage before, and discovered he kinda likes it. But _this...this_ was so much _more._ It wasn’t nearly as restrictive and yet, it makes Dean feel a bit helpless—but in a _good_ way. _Not to mention, it also makes all the blood in his body rush south._ He does nothing to stifle the moans and gasps that Cas wrenches out of him, especially when he realizes that each sound just seems to spur Cas on even more. 

After what could be either a few minutes, or a few hours, the angel kicks things up a notch. He licks a stripe up Dean’s neck, pulling a loud, shuddering gasp out of him. Dean shifts his legs so he can wrap them around Cas’s hips, pulling the two of them even closer together. Cas gives a low, appreciative hum against Dean’s throat at that, and the vibration of the sound against his skin makes Dean shiver. Cas continues lavishing attention on Dean’s neck, then slowly begins making his way down to the top of Dean’s chest. Just when Dean thinks he can relax into the feeling, Cas nips at the skin on his collarbone. He jolts, moaning loudly. Cas lets out a low chuckle, enjoying Dean’s reaction. He pulls back to look at him.

“I _love_ how responsive you are, Dean,” Cas says.

Dean reaches a hand up to stroke Cas’s cheek. The angel’s features soften, and he presses a kiss to Dean’s palm. It’s a brief reminder that as much as they’re enjoying the _physical_ aspects of each other, there’s more than just simple lust at play. Dean’s hand slides up to tangle in Cas’s hair, his fingers scratching lightly at Cas’s scalp. The angel makes a low sort of rumble at that, and lowers himself back down. Dean can’t see him with his head tipped back like this, but he can _feel_ Cas smiling against his skin as he presses a cluster of kisses to Dean’s chest. Slowly, the angel trails a hand down his chest, one of his fingers pausing to toy with Dean’s nipple. Dean makes a strangled noise.

“Oh,” Cas says in an amused tone. “You like that, don’t you?”

_“Cas,”_ Dean complains.

Cas chuckles softly, continuing to tease him.

“Cas, I wanna _see_ you,” Dean whines. “I can’t see you very well like this.”

The angel reaches a hand up and gently presses two fingers to the side of Dean’s jaw. Dean can suddenly relax his head down, and he’s finally able to meet Cas’s eyes. He watches, transfixed, as Cas holds his gaze while sliding down Dean’s chest in the same direction his hand went just a few moments earlier. His jaw falls open as he watches Cas lick at him, slowly dragging his tongue over Dean’s right nipple. He lets out a long moan, grabbing at Cas’s hair. Cas starts to suck at the sensitive bud, laving his tongue over it. Dean bucks his hips up at Cas, delighting in the result. It’s no secret that Cas’s efforts have had quite the _effect_ on him, and it quickly becomes apparent to Dean that Cas is being similarly affected by what they’re doing. 

Dean tightens his legs around Cas’s hips, pulling the angel completely flush against him. Like this, Dean can feel Cas’s arousal pressing into the front of his hip, and he _loves_ the sensation. He starts to roll his hips up into Cas in a steady motion, trying to get a bit of friction going. Not enough to _hurt,_ just enough to _really_ get Cas’s attention—something Dean quickly succeeds in doing. Cas moans against Dean’s chest and seems to completely forget what he was doing. Dean uses the opportunity to haul Cas up for a searing kiss. He flings his arms around the angel’s neck, holding him tightly. Cas starts to grind his hips into Dean, and they both make noises of pleasure at that. When they break apart, they’re both panting heavily.

_“These...damn...clothes,”_ Dean growls, between pressing rough kisses along Cas’s jaw.

Cas pulls back just enough to look at Dean, a curious expression on his face. He places his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and the next thing Dean knows, he’s _naked._ That’s not _nearly_ as much of a shock, however, as when he realizes that _Cas_ is naked as well. The sudden skin on skin contact drives Dean _wild._ He lets out a loud, broken moan, tossing his head back on the pillow.

“I _really_ hope you don’t have to explain any of this to anyone upstairs,” he tells Cas.

Cas makes a noncommittal grunt. _He doesn’t really want to think about that right now, not when he has Dean laid out underneath him like this._ The angel shifts, and their hips slot together _perfectly,_ trapping their erections between their stomachs. They pick up their previous rhythm, both of them moaning at the result. The friction that the roll of their hips produces is good—it’s _really_ good—but it’s not nearly enough. As Dean draws Cas in for another kiss, the angel slips a hand between them, wrapping his fingers around their cocks. Dean grunts into Cas’s mouth, tensing at the contact. Cas starts to quickly stroke them both and Dean hisses against his lips.

_“Easy, tiger,”_ he grits. “Take it easy...we’re not even to the good part yet.”

Cas stares at him, piecing together Dean’s meaning.

“You...you want...”

“Oh, I _want,”_ Dean assures him. “You have no idea _how long_ I’ve wanted this.”

He pulls Cas in for another kiss. 

“I want you, Cas. I want _all_ of you.”

To emphasize his point, Dean reaches a hand between them, grabbing at Cas’s cock. The angel groans.

“I want _every. Single. Inch,”_ Dean tells him.

Cas stares into Dean’s eyes, understanding. His voice is even deeper than usual when he speaks.

_“I want you too, Dean...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> As always, the next chapter will be up soon. I won't leave you hanging, I promise!


	8. A Minor Miraculous Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Cas kneels between Dean’s legs, nudging them open a little wider. Dean stares at Cas’s form, licking his lips. He shamelessly admires Cas’s smooth chest, his lean stomach, his strong hips and thighs, and of course, at his _gorgeously_ hard cock. Dean bites his lip. _This was better than any dream._ He glances back up at Cas’s face, then suddenly remembers something. He turns towards his nightstand, about to open the top drawer when Cas stops him.

“We don’t need it,” the angel says in a low voice, knowing what Dean was reaching for.

Dean narrows his eyes slightly. Cas gives him a knowing smile, and suddenly Dean understands. He huffs out a laugh.

“Boy, you are just _gunning_ to get on Heaven’s hit list aren’t you?” he teases.

“I’m allowed to perform minor miraculous acts to prove that I am, in fact, an angel of the Lord,” Cas replies.

He gives Dean a heated look.

_“Have I proven it yet?”_

Dean pretends to contemplate the answer, biting his bottom lip. His eyes flick over Cas’s body once more.

“I don’t know, Feathers,” he says, his voice _dripping_ with intent. “I think you’ve still got some more... _convincing_ to do.”

Cas laughs softly.

“Very well, Dean.”

He settles between Dean’s thighs, pushing Dean’s knees up towards his chest. Dean fidgets on the bed, making himself a little more comfortable, one of his hands reaching for Cas’s hair. He rakes his fingers through the angel’s hair as Cas starts to trail kisses along Dean’s inner thighs, slowly making his way up towards his hips. Dean sighs and moans, anxiously awaiting what he knows is coming next. Cas takes his time about it, leaving clusters of wet kisses on Dean’s hips before finally, _finally_ directing his attention where Dean wants it. The angel glances up at him briefly, then presses a lingering kiss to the tip of Dean’s cock. Even though he knew it was going to happen, even though it’s what he’s been _waiting_ for, Dean can’t help but gasp when he feels Cas’s lips on him. He uses his hand that isn’t tangled in Cas’s hair to reach for Cas, seeking out one of his hands. 

Understanding what Dean wants, Cas laces his fingers with Dean’s, resting their joined hands on top of Dean’s lower stomach. He looks up at Dean, taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Dean lets out a shaky moan, his grip tightening in Cas’s hair. The angel starts to bob his head, taking more of Dean into his mouth with each repetition. His pace is slow, almost tortuously so, but Dean doesn’t even _think_ about complaining. _He’s pretty sure he just forgot how to do that, among several other things._ Cas swirls his tongue, and Dean lets out a broken cry. Suddenly, Dean registers the feeling of Cas’s free hand sliding down the back of one of his thighs, then coming to rest against his ass. Cas pauses, his mouth poised on the tip of Dean’s cock. He raises his eyebrows in question, his finger teasing between Dean’s ass cheeks. Dean nods eagerly.

_“Please, Cas,”_ he breathes.

Satisfied with Dean’s response, Cas resumes his previous ministrations, bobbing his head a little more quickly now, taking all of Dean into his mouth. A moment later, Dean feels a finger pressing into him. It’s warm and slick, and Dean grins to himself, knowing that the deliciously smooth glide is being provided via angel mojo. It’s certainly the most _unorthodox_ use of Cas’s powers Dean’s ever seen. _But hey, he’s not complaining. It feels great._ Cas’s finger moves, pressing in a little deeper, and Dean makes a soft noise at that. He squeezes Cas’s hand as the angel’s finger slowly starts to move in and out. Dean nearly relaxes into the sensation when Cas suddenly hooks his finger, searching for the spot that will drive Dean _wild._

He finds it after only a few attempts, and Dean’s whole body goes rigid, his back arching off the bed. Cas hums around his cock appreciatively, savoring Dean’s reaction. He hooks his finger a little bit more and Dean moans. After several teasing strokes of his fingertip, Cas removes his finger, then deftly replaces it with two. He gives Dean a brief moment to adjust, then quickly finds the same sweet-spot he’d located earlier, rubbing at it firmly. Dean whines, bucking his hips reflexively. The outburst earns him a curious glance from Cas, who rubs his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand. Cas then applies a little more pressure with his fingers, and hollows his cheeks. Dean squirms. His hand fists in Cas’s hair, and he uses it to tug Cas’s head back, attempting to pull the angel away from him. Cas looks up at Dean, his brows furrowed.

“Not gonna last,” Dean pants. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

Slowly, Cas pulls off his cock, sucking lightly as he does. He plants more kisses on Dean’s thighs, pausing every now and then to look at him. _Dean looks stunning._ Cas hums, watching the way Dean’s face contorts in pleasure as he starts scissoring his fingers in and out of him, stretching him open wider. He licks his lips, giving Dean a particularly _hungry_ look. Dean whimpers slightly in response. He grips Cas’s hand tightly.

_“Please, Cas,”_ he begs. 

Cas adds a third finger and Dean keens, tipping his head back. Thankfully, the noise isn’t a pained one, although it is rather _loud._ Dean starts to arch his back and grind down against Cas’s fingers. The angel watches him closely, enjoying how _shameless_ Dean is when it comes to pleasure. He plants a gentle kiss on Dean’s knee and twists his wrist, shifting his fingers inside of Dean. The hunter writhes. 

_“Cas,”_ he pleads. “I _need_ you. I need you _now.”_

When Cas is satisfied that Dean is stretched out enough, he slowly removes his fingers. Dean groans at the sudden empty feeling, but is quickly distracted by the sight of Cas moving over him once more. Dean has _long_ been of the opinion that Cas looks good from virtually _any_ angle. But _this one,_ the one where Cas is crawling over Dean to settle between his legs, his cock standing proudly at attention— _this one has to be the best._ Dean stares at him. He doesn’t necessarily mean to, but he _stares._ While Cas isn’t extraordinarily _girthy,_ there’s a _length_ to him that Dean thinks he’s _really_ going to enjoy. Cas catches him staring. He gives Dean a playful smile.

“Would you like to do the honors?” he asks.

Dean furrows his brow. By way of explanation, Cas reaches for one of Dean’s hands. He turns it palm-up, then slides his hand beneath Dean’s, his fingers pressing into the back of Dean’s hand. Suddenly, there’s a cool, wet feeling on Dean’s palm. _Lube,_ he realizes. _Cas just angel-magicked up some lube in his hand._ He glances at his hand, then back at Cas. Dean giggles. He actually, properly _giggles_ at that. Cas gives him an amused look, then starts guiding Dean’s hand towards his cock. Dean’s fingers wrap around him, and he starts to stroke Cas gently, slicking him up. The angel lets out a deep sigh, his hands running along the sides of Dean’s thighs. Dean doesn’t strictly _need_ more than a few strokes to coat Cas with lube, but seeing the look of pleasure on Cas’s face urges him to keep going. 

He starts to twist his wrist, squeezing just a _little_ more firmly when he reaches the head of Cas’s cock on each stroke. Dean’s movements are slow and deliberate, and _clearly_ to Cas’s liking, judging by the low moan that leaves Cas’s lips. He manages to pull a few more moans out of Cas before the angel stops him. He reaches for Dean’s wrist, signaling that Dean needs to quit if he wants things to progress any further. Dean immediately understands, letting his hand slip away from Cas’s cock. Cas shifts between his legs, pushing them up and open a little bit further. He lowers himself down and lines himself up, his hands going to either of Dean’s hips. Then, as slow and smooth as he can manage, Cas pushes himself into Dean. Dean gasps at the initial stretch. He reaches up to grab Cas’s shoulders, desperately trying to ground himself. 

After several long moments, Cas bottoms out, his hips pressed firmly against Dean. Dean lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and Cas groans, stroking Dean’s side. He wraps his legs around Cas, his hands pulling him in for a kiss. When their lips part, Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s, his hand coming up to stroke the hunter’s cheek. They stay like that for a moment, adjusting to how it feels to be so close together. Then slowly, Cas begins to move. He slides out about halfway, then rocks back into Dean. Dean moans at that, encouraging Cas to keep going. He presses kiss after kiss to Cas’s cheeks and jaw, one of his hands running through Cas’s hair. His fingers are still a little messy from the lube, but neither of them care, they’re too preoccupied with how it feels to _finally_ have each other like this. 

After several gentle thrusts, Cas gets into a steady rhythm, finding a pace that they both seem to enjoy. Their combined moans and gasps of pleasure start to fill the room as they learn the lines and textures of each other’s bodies. Suddenly, Cas moves _just right_ and Dean cries out, tossing his head back on the pillow. The angel buries his face against the side of Dean’s neck, kissing him as he repeats the same motion over and over. He slows the roll of his hips into Dean, making sure to hit the same spot that made him cry out in pleasure each time. _The sensation is overwhelming._ The way it feels to have Cas’s weight draped over him, pinning him against the mattress as Cas rocks into him is so, _so_ much _._ But Dean still wants _more._ He gasps the angel’s name, grabbing at his shoulders to get his attention. 

“Cas. Cas, _please,”_ Dean manages.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asks softly. “What do you need?”

“Touch me, Cas. Please, _touch me.”_

Cas kisses him softly, then slides a hand between them, wrapping his fingers, which are suddenly slick, around Dean’s cock. He keeps his strokes light, making them in time with each of his thrusts. Dean moans loudly, then captures Cas’s lips in a kiss. _Dean loves it._ He loves _everything_ about how it feels to have Cas like this. He _loves_ the angel’s gentle, fluid motions and all the tender kisses Cas leaves on his lips, but he _knows_ that Cas is being delicate with him. Dean knows he’s going to regret it in the morning, but right now, he doesn’t want _delicate_. He wants _more_ of Cas. He wants _all_ of Cas. _And that includes all of the angel’s strength..._

_“Cas,”_ he groans. “I’m not made of glass, you aren’t going to break me.”

_“Dean…”_

“I mean it Cas,” Dean tells him. “I can _feel_ you holding back, you know.”

Cas makes a soft noise in his ear.

“Would you like me to be rougher with you?” he asks.

Dean knows that Cas doesn’t _mean_ for that to come out as _hot_ as it does, a fact that only makes the question _that_ much more tantalizing. It sends a rush of heat through Dean’s entire body. He reaches between them, digging his fingers into Cas’s hips, and Cas bucks harshly into Dean on instinct. Dean gasps.

“That’s it, Cas,” he says, “I wanna be able to feel this for a _week.”_

Cas moans at that. Almost instantly, his thrusts become harder, and his grip on Dean’s cock becomes firmer. His free hand slides behind Dean’s head, and Cas grabs a fistful of his hair, using it to yank Dean’s head back. Dean yelps, but Cas doesn’t stop. _Not that Dean wants him to._ Cas kisses roughly at his neck, growling and moaning as he starts to pick up the pace, beginning to focus on his own pleasure. Several punched-out breaths escape Dean’s lips as the angel pounds into him, and Dean’s bed frame starts to groan under the effort. Not long after, Dean has to reach a hand above his head, pressing his palm flat against the headboard to keep himself from being driven into it. 

It all feels so good that Dean doesn’t ever want it to end, but he can feel the pressure in the pit of his stomach building rapidly. He grabs Cas tightly with his other hand, his fingers digging into the angel’s side. Cas sucks a bruise at the base of his neck, and the sensation pushes Dean over the edge. He tries to babble out a warning to Cas, to let him know that he’s close, but Dean’s lips don’t seem to be able to form the words. He comes only a moment later, his moans reaching a new volume altogether as he spills into Cas’s hand, his back arching off the mattress. Cas gives him a few gentle strokes, slowing his thrusts. For a while, all Dean can do is lay there, his eyes closed and his heart still racing. He feels Cas go still, the hand in his hair relaxing its grip and sliding down to cup his face.

“Dean? Dean are you alright?” Cas asks intently. 

Dean makes a noise that’s _supposed_ to be a _‘yes,’_ but considering that Cas is still not moving, he’s not sure how it came out. He tries again.

“Yeah...don’t stop,” he manages.

“But, Dean—”

Dean silences him by rolling his hips up at Cas. The movement is weak, but the message is clear: _Cas hasn’t come yet, so Dean’s not tapping out._ Slowly, Cas begins to rock his hips again, doing his best not to overstimulate Dean. When Dean’s body recovers enough, he starts to move with Cas, holding him close. When Dean’s mind recovers enough, he recalls the effect his teasing words and voicings of pleasure have had on Cas, and Dean decides to try something out. He murmurs little bits of praise and affection into Cas’s ear while the angel chases his own release.

_“I love having you like this...you’re so gorgeous, Cas...I can’t believe I get to have you like this...I get to have you like no one else does...and you’re so good to me, Cas...you’re so beautiful.”_

Cas’s head drops onto his shoulder, his thrusts becoming uneven. Dean can feel how close he is, and he presses a kiss to Cas’s temple. 

_“Dean,”_ Cas grunts. _“I...I’m—”_

“I know,” Dean tells him. “It’s okay, Cas. Let go for me.”

Dean’s hips are starting to get sore, his whole body feeling overstimulated, but he doesn’t want Cas to stop. _There’s one last thing he wants._ He wraps his legs around Cas a little tighter as the angel’s hips begin to stutter. 

_“_ That’s it, Cas... _I want you to come inside me.”_

Cas cries out at Dean’s words, burying his face against Dean’s neck. Cas thrusts _one, two, three more times,_ and then he comes. Dean vaguely registers the warm, wet rush that fills him as Cas moans loudly, but as it happens, something entirely unexpected catches Dean’s attention. There’s a loud, electric _buzz_ that seems to come from everywhere, and suddenly the room descends into darkness. Cas collapses on top of him, panting heavily in Dean’s ear. He seems completely unaware that anything has changed. Dean glances around. _The room is pitch-dark, not even the light of his alarm clock is present._ He slowly puts together what happened.

“Cas? Did you just...blow out the power in my room?” he asks slowly. 

The angel shifts, lifting his head up to glance around the room. He’s silent for a long moment.

“Uh, well…”

Dean raises an eyebrow, turning to look in Cas’s direction despite the fact that it’s too dark to see him.

_“Cas?”_

“I...I fear I may have blown out the electricity in the entire bunker,” Cas admits quietly, his tone slightly embarrassed.

“But...don’t we have a backup generator?” Dean muses.

Cas remains quiet. He hangs his head forward to rest against Dean’s shoulder in guilt. 

“I’m afraid I may have blown that out as well,” Cas murmurs.

There are several moments of silence, then Dean starts to laugh. He runs a hand through Cas’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss. 

“Oh, Feathers,” Dean grins against Cas’s lips, “you just gave me the ego boost of a _lifetime.”_

Slowly, Cas chuckles in response. They share a few more kisses and lapse into comfortable silence, rolling onto their sides. Suddenly, Dean lifts his head.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You _can_ fix that though... _right?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! Up next, a little aftercare...


	9. Let Me Take Care of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's some aftercare! (There's a little bit of bunker-blowout aftermath first, but it's mostly aftercare...)
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam is reading in the library when a loud _buzzzt!_ echoes throughout the room, and everything goes dark. He sighs. _Great. Another power outage. At least they have the back-up generator._ Sam waits for it to kick on, but as the seconds tick by, his hope that it will do so begins to dwindle. He groans in frustration. _This was all Dean’s fault._ Sam had told him a thousand and one times that they needed to redo the electrical wiring in the bunker. They relied _way_ too much on the back-up generator to bail them out whenever the bunker's shoddy, old wiring failed, and now it had come back to bite them in the butt. And _of course,_ the back-up generator would finally give out in the middle of _summer._

Grumbling to himself, Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flashlight feature. He uses the dim light to guide him, making his way towards Dean’s room. Sam doesn’t care if it’s late at night. His damn brother is gonna get his ass out of bed and fix this _now,_ even if that means Sam has to wake Dean up from a dead sleep. He’ll deal with a tired, pissed-off Dean as long as it means that he gets his air conditioning back. Preparing himself for all of Dean’s possible arguments at being woken up, Sam tries the door to Dean’s room. _It’s locked._ Sam frowns, then knocks loudly on the door.

“Dean!” he calls. 

_No reply._

“Dean, get up. The damn electricity went out again.”

When he’s met with silence, Sam knocks a second time.

_“Sam?”_ Dean’s voice finally calls from the other side of the door.

“Yes, Dean. Get up!” the younger Winchester growls. 

_“Go away, Sammy,”_ Dean growls back.

Sam sighs, running a hand over his face. _He is not about to stand there and play games with Dean all night._

“Dean, I have been after you to help me fix the wiring in this place since we moved in, and I am _not_ putting up with this any longer...I swear to God, if you don’t come out here _right now—”_

_“I said, go away!”_

“—I will _drag_ your ass out of bed!”

There’s a long pause on the other side of the door. Finally, Dean breaks the silence.

_“You and what army?”_

_Oh, that’s it,_ Sam thinks. He tucks his phone under his chin and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. _What army, Dean? His army of credit cards._ Sam pulls one out and random and slips it into the door jamb by the knob. He jiggles it slightly, and rattles the doorknob with his other hand. Dean must realize what Sam’s doing, because in the next moment, Dean is shouting at him.

_“Sam, no! Don’t come in!”_

The door clicks open, and Sam quickly steps into Dean’s room, grabbing the phone from under his chin and trailing its flashlight over at Dean’s bed. He’s met with the sight of a _very_ naked Dean, trying to hide himself by pressing into an _equally_ naked Cas. Sam drops his credit card.

_“What the fuck?”_ he says eloquently. 

The whole room descends into chaos as all three of them try to yell over each other. Dean snarls at Sam for barging into his room, Sam screams at Dean for not putting a sock on his doorknob, and Cas alternates between defending Dean and apologizing profusely. Upon realizing that Dean and Cas are making _no attempt whatsoever_ to cover themselves, Sam turns his back to them and the room finally goes silent. Cas slowly gets out of Dean’s bed and pads over towards the center of the room. He pulls on his sweatpants and t-shirt, then heads for the door. Dean slips under his covers, pulling them up to his chest.

“Cas?” he murmurs.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ll go fix the electricity...I’m the one who blew it out anyway.”

Cas then walks into the darkness of the hallway, not needing light to be able to see. Sam’s eyes go wide with shock and he turns to look over his shoulder at Dean. 

“He, _what?”_ Sam hisses.

Dean laughs nervously.

“Heh...what can I say? I guess I know how to show a guy a good time.”

Sam stares at him, mortified. After several moments, his mouth finally remembers how to form words.

“I’m going for a drive,” he mutters. “I can’t deal with this.”

Sam hastily walks out of Dean’s room. The power returns a moment later, but Sam doesn’t care, he’s already on his way to the garage. _He has no idea how he’s going to spend an entire week with Dean in North Dakota, much less look him in the eyes ever again…_

  
  


***

The power comes back on and Dean slowly adjusts to the sudden light that fills his room. He blinks, looking around, then sighs. Dean sits up and buries his face in his hands.

“I’m _never_ gonna hear the end of this,” he grumbles.

Suddenly, Dean can hear footsteps approaching his room. He looks up in time to see Cas enter, carrying a few things in his hands. He has a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and an ice pack. Dean immediately forgets all about the snafu with Sam, staring at the angel in front of him fondly. 

“Cas…” he murmurs. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Cas gives him a puzzled look.

“I thought it seemed appropriate,” he replies.

Dean visibly _melts_ and reaches for Cas, urging him to come closer. Cas quickly sets the water and aspirin down on the nightstand, then slides onto the bed, stretching out next to Dean. He slides himself under the covers, then wraps an arm around Dean’s shoulders, pulling the hunter against his side. He kisses Dean’s cheek, then places the ice pack against the left side of Dean’s neck. Dean shivers a little at that, pressing himself into Cas. Cas looks at him, eyeing the love-marks on Dean’s neck. He shifts so he can hold the ice pack with one hand, while gently rubbing Dean’s back with his other hand. 

“I fear I may have paid a little too much attention to your neck,” Cas muses out loud.

Dean shrugs.

“I’m not complaining. It felt _great.”_

Cas kisses his temple and one of Dean’s hands slides up to rest on top of Cas’s thigh.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” Cas asks. “I wasn’t too rough with you?”

Dean shakes his head.

“I mean...I’ll be feeling it for a while. But that _is_ what I asked for,” Dean replies.

He gives Cas a smile and leans into him a little more.

“I’d say it was _perfect...You_ were perfect.”

Cas stretches up to kiss the top of Dean’s head and they lapse into comfortable silence. Eventually, Cas shifts the ice pack to the other side of Dean’s neck. Dean quickly takes advantage of the opportunity this gives him, turning his head to kiss Cas’s lips. They stay like that for a while, trading slow kisses until the ice pack inevitably thaws out. When Cas deposits the ice pack on Dean’s nightstand, he picks up the bottle of aspirin, offering it to Dean.

“Would you like to take some now?” he asks.

Dean nods, and Cas gives him the bottle, then retrieves the glass of water, handing it to Dean after the hunter succeeds in shaking two aspirin tabs out of the bottle. Dean takes the pills and drinks about half the glass of water, then hands everything back to Cas so he can put it on the nightstand.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean says, nestling against Cas’s chest once more.

“You’re very welcome, Dean. Is there anything else you need?”

Dean glances at himself, then at Cas, chuckling softly.

“Well...I think we _both_ need a shower,” he mutters. 

“Okay...Why don’t we take one?”

Dean looks up at him, surprised. 

“You mean...take one _together?”_

“Yes,” Cas replies. “Is that okay?”

Dean nods eagerly. Cas smiles at him, then wordlessly helps him out of bed. The angel slips himself out of his t-shirt and sweatpants, tossing them onto the floor with all their other clothes. With Sam out of the bunker for a while, neither of them need to worry about getting caught being naked as they head for the bathroom together. Dean’s a little unsteady on his feet, so he leans on Cas the whole way. _Not that Cas seems to mind._ He keeps an arm firmly looped around Dean’s waist, holding him close. Once they’re inside the bathroom, Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s lips and starts the water running. When he’s satisfied that the water is warm enough, Cas winds his arms around Dean and starts pulling him into the shower. When Dean shoots him a strange look, Cas kisses him again. 

“Let me take care of you, Dean,” the angel says. 

He guides Dean under the shower head, and Dean sighs as the warm water starts to trickle over his body. Cas slowly runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, letting it get wet. He keeps one arm wrapped around Dean as they share the water, leaning in to kiss him from time to time. When they’re both soaked from head to toe, Cas decides to start getting them cleaned up. He lathers shampoo in Dean’s hair, using his fingertips to massage the areas he tugged at harshly only a little while earlier. Dean leans into the touch, letting out pleased hums as Cas rubs at his scalp. When he’s finished, Cas then shampoos his own hair, smiling at Dean as they stand close together in the shower. They rinse the shampoo out of their hair, and somehow end up with their lips locked together in the process. When they break apart, Dean is hugging Cas against him, laughing gently. Cas strokes a hand along Dean’s side.

“What is it?” he asks Dean over the sound of the running water.

Dean glances at him.

“No one’s ever... _showered_ me before,” he admits. 

Cas nods his understanding.

“Would you like me to stop?” he asks.

Dean quickly shakes his head.

“No...No, I kinda like it.”

He kisses the angel once more, then pulls back, waiting for him to continue. Cas grabs a nearby bar of soap. He lathers it between his hands, then slides the bar of soap down Dean’s arms and shoulders. He uses large circular motions to scrub Dean’s chest and stomach, then his back. Dean jolts a little when Cas’s hands find their way to his more _private_ areas, but that’s due to overstimulation more than anything. Cas scrubs him down from head to toe, leaving Dean covered in a layer of soap bubbles. Dean watches as Cas quickly scrubs himself down, then the two of them rinse the soap off of their skin. When they’re done, Cas wordlessly moves Dean in front of him, so that they’re both facing the direction, the hot water cascading over them. Before Dean can ask what Cas is doing, the angel places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, and starts kneading into the muscle there. 

He works his way towards Dean’s neck slowly, his thumbs moving in little, circular motions. _It’s a massage,_ Dean realizes. He tips his head back a little bit, sighing softly as Cas continues to work at his neck and shoulders. The combination of the hot water and the angel’s hands banish all the tension from Dean’s body. Cas slowly massages the muscles of his back, starting at the tops of Dean’s shoulders, and ending at his tailbone. Cas peppers his neck and shoulders with kisses, occasionally leaning forward to murmur words of affection in Dean’s ear. He tells Dean how _beautiful_ he is, how _strong_ he is, and how _happy_ Cas is to do this for him. When he’s done massaging Dean’s back, Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, and the two of them stand like that for a while under the hot water, Dean leaning back against Cas’s chest, and Cas pressing forward into him. At some point though— _lik_ _e when the hot water starts to run out_ —it has to come to an end. 

Dean wants to stay in the shower a while longer, but eventually, they have to get out. Reluctantly, he turns off the water and Cas steps out first, getting them some clean towels. Cas quickly towels himself dry, then wraps Dean in a towel, pulling him out of the shower. Dean lets Cas dry him off, enjoying the way the angel’s hands rub at him as he works down both of Dean’s arms, then his torso, then his legs. He grins when Cas playfully tosses the towel over his head, then frisks his hands back and forth to dry Dean’s hair. When he’s done, Cas lets the towel slide down around Dean’s shoulders, using it to draw him in for another kiss. Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s middle, pulling their bodies flush together. They both sigh contentedly and when they pull apart, Dean gives Cas a sleepy smile. 

“Tired?” Cas asks.

Dean nods.

“Would you like to go to bed?”

Dean smirks at that, unable to resist the urge to make a joke.

“But, Cas,” he says quietly. “We already did _that.”_

The angel gives him an exasperated, yet fond look.

“I meant _sleep,_ Dean. Would you like to get some rest?”

Dean lays his head on Cas’s shoulder.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “But _only_ if you agree to stay with me.”

Cas chuckles softly.

“Of course I will,” he replies.

“Good...I meant what I said earlier, you know. I wanna wake up to you, Cas.”

Cas strokes a hand through Dean’s hair. 

“I’d like that very much,” he tells Dean. 

They walk back to Dean’s room wrapped in their towels, their arms slung around each other. Dean closes the door behind them and hangs up his towel on the hook on his door, next to his bathrobe. He takes Cas’s towel and layers it over his own before turning and wrapping his arms around the angel. They walk towards the bed together, flopping down on it side-by-side. Dean settles against the sheets and furrows his brows. His bed is perfectly clean and cool. Not to mention, the covers look like they’ve been straightened slightly. _There’s not a single wrinkle in them._ He glances at Cas.

“Did you just... _angel mojo_ my bed?” he asks. 

“And the papers,” Cas replies. 

Dean lifts his head up to look over Cas’s shoulder. Sure enough, the pages of translations from Cas’s diary are sitting in a neat stack on the edge of Dean’s nightstand, instead of being scattered all over the floor. Dean glances back at Cas and notices how the angel is staring at him, his blue eyes filled with emotion. He grabs Cas and rolls them over, laying on top of his chest. He presses kiss after kiss to Cas’s lips, moaning happily as Cas kisses him back. When they break apart, Dean suddenly seems to realize something.

“I...I have to leave for North Dakota in the morning,” he says quietly.

Cas nods.

“Yes, you and Sam have a case there.”

Dean frowns.

“We’ll be gone for almost a week.” 

Cas offers him a sympathetic smile and reaches a hand up to stroke Dean’s cheek.

“And something tells me Sam isn’t gonna want you coming with us,” Dean mutters.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Cas assures him. 

Dean stares at him for a moment, then surges forward, pressing a desperate kiss to Cas’s lips. Cas makes a soft noise of surprise, but quickly returns the kiss. Dean grabs at Cas’s arms and shoulders, kissing him roughly. He sets a breakneck pace, and it isn’t long before Cas can feel Dean’s tongue teasing over his lips. Cas tilts his head back, breaking the kiss.

“Dean,” he says.

Dean doesn’t seem to hear him. He kisses frantically at Cas’s jaw and neck, pressing himself into the angel. Cas runs a hand along his side.

“Dean, look at me.”

The hunter grudgingly pulls back, meeting Cas’s eyes. 

“I’m not going _anywhere,_ Dean,” Cas tells him. “You aren’t losing me after tonight.”

Dean blinks a couple times, his eyes starting to mist over.

“I...I know, but—”

Cas hushes him softly. He lifts his head and presses a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth.

“I know, Dean. I know it _feels_ that way.”

Dean nods, then buries his face against the side of Cas's neck. Cas holds him tight, soothing him by rubbing gentle circles in his back. 

“How about I make you a deal?” Cas says after a moment. 

Dean peels himself away from the angel, drawing back to look at him.

“A deal?” he asks.

Cas nods.

“What if after you and Sam get back from North Dakota...you and I have a _date?”_

  
Dean’s eyes go wide at the suggestion. In an instant, the fear and disappointment of having to leave Cas in the morning begins to lessen. _He doesn’t remember the last time someone asked him out on a date..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you liked this chapter! 
> 
> As you can see, there's only a couple of chapters left, which means the conclusion to this story is right around the corner! Until next time! :)


End file.
